A Hot Day in New London
by CyleFlynt
Summary: While New London is under siege by a record breaking heat wave, Lestrade and Holmes investigate some suspicious chemical thefts that lead them to an old friend of Lestrade’s, and an old nemesis of Holmes’. This is a revised version from the original whic
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer

I do not own DIC or Sherlock Holmes in the 22nd Century though I wish I did. Someone else owns it all. However, Josh is mine (and any other characters to make a special appearance) as is the original material of this story. Enjoy.

**A Hot Day in New London**

_CyleFlynt_

Holmes was sitting in his favorite chair by the fireplace. The fire wasn't burning and for once, it was a bright and sunny New London day. Rays of sunlight splotched the hardwood floors where once only dismal wisps of light would break through the thick fog of the morning. No new cases had sprung to his attention. It was a quiet and peaceful day, the startling lack of activity only serving to intensify the boredom that was just setting in.

Watson stood in the kitchen fixing another batch of those biscuits he had learned to cook. The culinary artist wouldn't leave his oven and stove if he didn't have other, more important responsibilities. However, today he was pondering Holmes' recent mood. Holmes' mood swings certainly could cause a miserable day, but the compudroid wondered if for some reason, this mood stemmed from something else. "If I didn't know better, I'd have thought he'd have spring fever or something along those lines. He's so irritable when there aren't any new cases. It's as if he's forgotten how to have fun," the compudroid sighed thoughtfully. "Well, if nothing else, one of the Irregulars should show up eventually to update him on the word of the streets."

Holmes activated the vidscreen, searching for something to drain away the boredom threatening to overtake him.

News Channel: The New London heat of summer really seems to be keeping the criminals down lately. The crime rate is at its lowest in 15 years. There is a possibility of heat stroke and dehydration with this heat wave………

Holmes: Too bad Moriarty can't control the weather……

* * *

A police cruiser sliced through the hot dry air flying down the streets of New London. She would have been stopped several times if the "code of officers" didn't include not pulling over a fellow police officer for speeding. She wasn't about to do this alone.

* * *

A knock sounded on the door.

"Holmes, can you get that! My biscuits are about to burn!" yelled a frantic Watson as he hurried to save his precious creations.

Jumping at the chance for any kind of external stimulation, Holmes sprang to the door, exhilarated for the excuse of leaving his chair and the monotonous newscaster. He saw both a person he had been expecting, and one not expected. There was a young brunette with a blonde streak of hair about shoulder length. Blue jeans and a faded shirt adorned her frame. Her blue eyes sparkled with an underlying intent. "Lestrade?" he managed to croak. Never had he ever expected to see her in anything besides her form-fitting police uniform, and even though he had often seen her more American-style dress in several of their nighttime vidcalls, a small pleasure he had considering the background the two shared, he had never expected her to drop by for anything other than business.

Lestrade grinned devilishly at him, her eyes glinting as she coyly asked, "Hey… I just came by to see if you were busy today. You aren't, are you?"

Homles' mind immediately caught on to her innocent act. "What are you up to Lestrade? Wait, don't tell me. Figuring it out would be much more interesting."

Lestrade began to roll her eyes as she grabbed his arm and pulled him outside. "You obviously aren't busy if that's the case." She said dryly. "But not to worry, I know something you can do."

Somehow, he allowed her to drag him to the curb before finally demanding his arm back. "You could have just asked for me to come outside, Lestrade. What is so important that we have to stand in this infernal heat for you to tell me?"

"Eyes and brains, Holmes. Eyes and brains." She smirked as she threw a rag at him and prepared to fill a bucket with water.

Holmes's eye finally caught sight of the police cruiser she had driven. Splattered with mud, dirt and numerous insect-like spots, it was nearly unrecognizable. "You want me. To clean that. For you." An incredulous Holmes gaped.

"Actually, while you're washing it I want you to tell me exactly what regions the mud and dead bugs came from, and I want the report on my desk by next Monday." She smirked, fighting hard to restrain herself from snickering just behind a still shocked Holmes. "Anyways, you know I'll be _supervising_." She snickered, finally giving into the urge to flat out laugh at his stunned expression.

* * *

Placing a soft towel over the biscuits while they cooled, Watson heard laughing. It sounded familiar but there weren't that many children that lived nearby. As he peeped out the door, he saw a shocked Holmes and one incredibly euphoric Lestrade. "My, my. Would either of you like some lemonade or would you like to stand in that heat all day?" 

Lestrade turned around beaming and replied, "Two lemonades and mine with a bit of sugar. We're gonna wash my car today. It's nice, hot, and sunny and Holmes has volunteered to wash my car with me today."

"I did _not_ volunteer!" Holmes retorted, having recovered from the initial shock of the situation.

"Pfft…" Lestrade responded, grabbing Holmes' arm again. She stared into his dark blue eyes and grinned maliciously, "You volunteered when you answered the door…."

As they rinsed the cruiser off, Holmes looked at Lestrade. She definitely seemed to be a good mood. What was so different about today that had her so happy? Normally, she would have stormed in complaining about the lack of cases, or perhaps some "brats" that she would have to check up on. But today, having to do work that required relatively no sense of mental capacity at all, she was practically flying. For one, she had on civilian clothes. That couldn't be it. A change of clothes wouldn't change her personality so drastically, and it had never affected their nighttime conversations before. Perhaps it was that her mind had a break from the cases. That wasn't it either. She enjoyed solving cases almost as much as he did. Perhaps it was the weather. It did seem to be about 50 degrees Farenhiet in New London almost every day, yet today it was reaching over 100.

"So what have you been up to Holmes? When there're no cases, you must have some kind of hobby, right?" the euphoric brunette inquired. As he looked up to reply, a sudden idea formed, "Yes, I do. One of which is this!" And with that a sharp stream of water spurted from his water hose.

The scene was instant chaos. Screams of shock from both sides echoed as a water fight erupted. "You'll PAY FOR THAT HOLMES!" Lestrade shouted, jumping up from her position and preparing to spray a stream of water back in his direction. Seeing her movements, Holmes dived for the tail end of the hovercar. "Not so sure Lestrade!" He boasted from his supposedly safe location, beginning to calculate her next move.

"Take this!" She growled falling to the pavement so as to shoot him from under the car. A shout of distress signaled her success as she hopped back on her feet to finish the job.

Lestrade was pulling out all the stops. Throwing her own rag at him, she dived behind the cruiser.

"That cruiser can't stop me!" he declared as he crouched to spray the water from underneath the hovering vehicle at the suspected spot, using Lestrade's own tactics against her. A sudden squeal confirmed his aim and suddenly, he was attacked from above with yet another jet of water as Lestrade leapt onto the cruiser for an ultimate offensive position.

"My! Aren't we having fun today!" exclaimed Watson as he appeared at the door with two glasses of lemonade. "Look at you both! You're soaked!"

As Lestrade quickly reverted back to her normal, business-orientated self and jumped down from the hood of her car, Holmes stood up and realized that he was indeed dripping wet. Both him and Lestrade stood with water dripping from their noses, cheeks, and hair, pants clinging to their legs and shirts plastered to their bodies. As he glanced at Lestrade, he suddenly found his heart rate was not slowing. "She looks so different. I guess I never took the time to notice before," he thought.

As a mothering Watson ushered the two "naughty" adults inside to dry off, it became apparent that Lestrade's blue jeans were going to take some time to get even partially dry, a serious disadvantage of heavy denim.

Watson: "Well. We certainly can't let you walk around in wet jeans all day. I suppose Holmes will just have to let you borrow some of his."

As Holmes looked up to argue he noticed Lestrade did look a bit chilly in her wet jeans. "Well, all right. Just don't get too comfortable. I don't do this often." He claimed, stalking towards his room to find a spare pair of pants.

"Just remember, you squirted me first with the water hose, Holmes." Lestrade mumbled as she was corralled by Watson to the hall bathroom to change.

As Holmes retrieved a pair of pants from his closet, he stopped a moment in the hallway, staring at the bathroom door Lestrade had ventured into. Several thoughts entered his mind, but only one he chose to voice. "Lestrade…..you weren't _serious_, about that report, were you?"

----

_A/N:_

_Chapter one is up. I'm formerly known as Casey (from Maureen's SH22 fan site), and I'm rewriting and revising my story as I reread through them myself with a fresh mind. For those of you who are wondering, I'm also planning on finishing the story this time around (as long as my motherboard doesn't get fried 5 times in 2 months again). I'll welcome any reviews and hopefully you'll all enjoy the story (and if you've already read some of the chapters I post, I hope you'll enjoy reading a slightly touched up version  ). I'm not really sure about the new rating system so the story will be rated a T until I figure it out. Enjoy._


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

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The next day was not any cooler and Holmes was more bored than ever. After Lestrade had left the day before, things had quickly settled into the same rut they were in before, and the new day promised nothing but flash fires and dehydrated elderly people. These were problems for the hospitals and firefighters to deal with, but nothing openly criminal. It was clear that the hot weather had affected the Irregulars as well. Tennyson had holed up in his home working with his computers while Wiggins was attempting to comfort a rather red Deidre whose fair skin had burned rather than tanned the previous afternoon. Dr. Watson was busy attempting to apply an aloe-like substance to Deidre's flaming back as she twisted away from his metallic fingertips.

Though the strange scene to Holmes' pad was humorous and almost chaotic, Holmes couldn't help but be distracted from it.

"STOP IT! THAT'S COLD!" Deidre cried as she escaped Watson's fingertips yet a third time.

"Come on Deidre, I know you're hurting, but we're only trying to help." comforted a concerned Wiggins as he allowed her to squeeze his hand. It always seemed to help when she could squeeze someone else's hand to release the pain. Here, there seemed to be a lot of pain to transfer.

"Miss Deidre, though I commend you on your feats of agility," he paused a moment, moving a bit closer to her yet again. "I suggest you cease this incessant squirming and allow me to administer this aloetion to your back." Watson reprimanded sternly. "Perhaps you won't peel." Watson sighed as he made another attempt to spread the aloe-like substance.

Deidre scrunched up her face as she tried to remain still, anticipating the freezing gel with a sharp breath. "It wouldn't be so cold if your hands weren't metallic. As if the aloe isn't cold enough." Deidre grumbled as she began to crush Wiggins' hand.

"Well, Deidre, learn anything?" inquired Holmes, as he leaned forward forcing himself to pay attention to the conversation.

"Heh," she laughed quietly, "yeah, a couple of things." Looking around she stated, "Not only is falling asleep generally not a good idea on a stakeout, but a very painful one when sunbathing. Also, now that I've crushed Wiggins' hands, I need a new manicure." She began to study her nails in detail as Wiggins chuckled at her response.

Holmes glanced out the window and pondered, "Where is Lestrade? Even with no crime today, normally she would have shown up by now."

---

The half-cleaned police cruiser glided across town. Today she wasn't headed for Baker Street. Instead, she was headed for Kathleen Drive. The buildings on that particular street were built so that a shop of some sorts could be stationed on the first floor while the owners of the business could live in the space above. It was generally a good setup allowing the owners to cut back costs of owning so much separate space and the government generally gave tax cuts for the space savvy businesses.

The recent lack of crime had given Lestrade more time than she could possibly use. She was more than willing to find something to do, but after tidying up her office, reorganizing her files, and catching up on weeks worth of casework, she needed to stretch her legs. Weeks ago, Grayson had thrown an immigration list in her face and given her the checkup responsibilities. Along with visiting these immigrants once a year to deliver any filework they may be required to fill out, she would have to handle their immigration status if they ever had any charges placed against them. Also, since most of them were Americans, she had to make certain that none of them were ever cryptonized if there were any such charges. America, her home country, had never passed any act that would allow for cryptonizing felons and had for years lobbied international laws to ban it as well. It all led back to the basic freedoms and rights of Americans. The freedoms she enjoyed before she moved to New London.

However, upon closer examination of the list, she had found one name that she had never expected to see in New London.

Turning the corner, she set down in front of 600 Kathleen Drive. The street's buildings were littered with signs strewn about announcing sales or bargains, but Lestrade did not pay much attention to any of them. The business she was interested in was called _A Messy Fix_.

---

News Channel: Over 67 people have been hospitalized due to heat stroke and 132 have been hospitalized due to dehydration today. If you have the following symptoms, you may be experiencing these conditions. If so, call 1-700-THIR-STY for information and possible help.

Moriarty flicked the monitor off as he set about to his newest scheme. This particular plan was working nicely, even if it was just luck that he had happened across the means to actually do it. If he could raise New London's temperature in just a matter of weeks, he couldn't wait to try natural disasters. However, with Fenwick retrieving the materials needed to further his plan, he was quickly developing a severe distaste for all of this water. Just water. He still remembered the waterfall as he fell off of the falls of Reichenbach to his first death. Cloning had ways of instilling memories much more vivid than normal ones, almost pressed into the consciousness as if to implant the original personality. 'How cloning had advanced over the years.' He thought darkly to himself before turning back to the window. How he hated this view. He would kill Holmes the way that he had died the first time and it wouldn't take Holmes too long to find him.

---

Jumping out of the cruiser, Lestrade opened the shop door and stepped inside as a bell rang some friendly melody out of tune, turning it to something more of a Halloween song. It was funny how most of the things in the "fix-it" shop remained broken and in disrepair. As she began to look around at her surroundings, a familiar voice shouted, "Be right there!" from the back room. Allowing herself a slight chuckle, she thought how some things never changed.

Soon, a young man about her age appeared at the back door dressed in jeans and a lab coat with a disheveled mess of hair upon his head. He had the classic mad scientist look but the mischievous twinkle in his eyes let on that he was only in it for the knowledge. Dirty blonde hair and light blue eyes. An engineer, an inventor, and an old friend. In his left hand he clutched a ragged notebook, a remnant of an earlier time.

She leaned nonchalantly against the wall by the door, crossing her arms and staring intently at the young scientist. "So, how's everything going, Josh? I see from your immigration record that you had a speeding ticket last week." Lestrade commented as she looked him right in the eye. "Or should I be more worried about any new inventions you might have come up with since last time I was here?"

"Beth. Would I ever invent something that could possibly hurt anyone?" he laughed off. Of course there was that time when he put a "self-destruct" button on a watch just for fun. He hadn't meant to give it away……….

"Gee, I don't know. That watch you made me was pretty painful." She smiled, watching him flinch as she mentioned the gift. She might have been mad at him when it had happened if they weren't such good friends but she was not above teasing him with every opportunity. She shifted her face, gazing almost dreamily out of the window to her left. "Mind if I hang here for a while?" She asked softly, turning back to face him. "Crime's low and I could use some inventing and chemistry, by the looks of it. How has business been?"

The young scientist smiled warmly at her from across the room as he slowly began to maneuver across the mess he called his shop. "Oh, the norm." he claimed offhandedly. "I've been inventing a few things here and there, but the shop is just for fun. There's not much going on today or since this weather turned hot. And I thought North Carolina had hot summers." He wiped his brow with the sleeve of his lab coat as if to emphasize his last words. "I did have a customer bring in some kind of antique footgear the other day. You've got to see it!" After finally making it to Beth, he began to ramble on about the various strange items his customers had brought in over the year he had been in business until he caught sight of a letter, slightly poking out of a, till then, carefully concealed pocket.

He tilted his face towards her and grinned at the strangely silent inspector, receiving a solid punch on his shoulder. "Well, come on back and we'll talk over a flask of chemicals." He joked as they picked their way through the mess of spare parts and various tools to the back of the business where the chemistry supplies were. "I got some news from Ben last week. He's planning on visiting next month. He'll meet up with Erika in New London and then fly back to America. You wanna join us for the day?"

"Just tell me when."

As they began to set up the supplies and go over the chemicals and procedures, the room began to quiet. The humming of the air conditioning seemed to have eliminated itself as they began the experiment.

As Beth glanced at Josh, she noticed his eyes had become shaded over, as if he were in deep thought. She hadn't seen him like that since their high school physics class where they would sit and crack the hardest problems the teacher could find. "What are you thinking about Josh?"

As he looked up, he began to put away the chemicals in front of him and reached for his notebook instead. "Ever since this weather started," he began cautiously, "I've been trying to figure out how cold, dank New London has turned into Palm Beach, Florida. And after a lot of thought, I realized, it's because the air is so dry." He looked up at Beth, seeing her nod in agreement. "The Thames is drying up. However, we both know the moisture isn't staying here. There has got to be something sucking the water out of the air and that is allowing the air of New London to heat up…."

"Because water has a high specific heat and that is what has always kept New London at cooler temperatures. Air with its low specific heat is just warming up too fast." She interjected, having already caught onto what Josh was saying.

Josh frowned, obviously coming across darker thoughts, "Even with the Thames drying up and all of that water vapor entering the air, the rate that the temperatures are increasing has stayed the same. Something has got to be messing with the atmosphere…."

He sat down on his lab stool and sighed, "I don't want to be right..." He leaned towards the lab bench reaching for the chemicals once more when he heard her murmur, "Me neither."

---

Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock Holmes in the 22nd Century or its characters. However, any original material of this story is indeed mine.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer:

I do not own DIC or Sherlock Holmes in the 22nd Century though I wish I did. Someone else owns it all. However, Josh is mine (and any other characters to make a special appearance) as is the original material of this story. Enjoy.

-----

Chapter 3

-----

Sending Fenwick out for the materials was taking longer than expected as Moriarty gazed out into the dark waters. It seemed as if he was caught in a trance, waiting for the moment he had so prepared for. _"Am I covering my tracks too well this time?"_ he wondered as he began to flip on the communicator that had until then, been almost dangling from his hand. He would just have to check in on Holmes to make certain that Holmes would be able to find him. Certainly Fenwick would be clumsy enough to draw Holmes out with that certain Lestrade. "Beth…" Slowly, his eyes sharpened and he lifted the communicator. "Fenwick, check on Holmes on your way back. He's been awfully quiet…."

---

Hot days paired with cold nights. The biting air nipped at Lestrade's cheeks and already, it was late. _"Yeah, another late night study session. I can't say I miss those."_ She thought as she set out towards her cruiser. Living on nothing other than black coffee for the past 3 hours was slowly making her irritable and though he barely noticed, she didn't want to take her frustrations out on Josh. _"Holmes would probably enjoy my snapping. What the….Where did that come from?"_ she groggily thought as she unlocked the door.

As the cruiser lifted off the pavement, she glanced out the window back at The Messy Fix. In the doorway stood Josh, watching her leave and waving goodbye with a goofy grin on his face. Dark circles from lack of sleep were forming under his eyes yet he still waited to watch her leave. Holmes never seemed to do that. With a silent wave, she glided off back home.

"Good night Beth. See you in two weeks…"

---

The next day, Watson had noticed Holmes was acting a bit strange. It was very early in the morning and Holmes just kept glancing out the bay window making "hmmmm" noises as he paced across the floor. He hadn't touched his tea or breakfast and he had yet to sit down in his usual chair. The overall atmosphere seemed tense, but _why_ this was so had Watson stumped.

"Holmes, what's wrong?" asked Watson, concerned as he brought some fresh tea over towards the window.

"Hmmmmmm……" Holmes absentmindedly replied, still treading a rut across the floor.

Watson sighed, simulating frustration. "If only I could understand the language of hmmm."

"Huh? Oh, did you say something Watson?" replied Holmes as he snapped to attention.

'_He really does seem to be out of it today.'_ Thought Watson as he too looked out the window. "You seem to be distracted today Holmes." He commented plainly.

"Is that so? I was just admiring the view." Holmes stated as he darkly thought, "_yes, the view of Fenwick. Why would he be spying on me? Moriarty must be up to something. But…what?"_

"Hmmmmmmm……"

"Watson, the game is afoot." Holmes firmly decided, as he reached for his cap and inverness. _'On second thought, maybe I should leave those here this time….'_

"What game?" asked a confused and clueless Watson as he discarded his second batch of tea and began to follow Holmes out the door.

"We're off to the Yard, Watson."

---

Head on her desk and finger repetitively tapping the delete button, Lestrade was more than tired. _'I'll never stay up that late again on a work night.'_ She swore to herself as she sunk even lower in her chair. "It figures today would be my desk day. I feel so cheated. What happened to my patrols?'

"LESTRADE! GET YOUR HEAD OFF THAT DESK AND BACK TO THE PAPERWORK! NOW!" shouted Grayson as he strode down the hallway past her door, scattering several of the younger officers ahead of him and in his wake.

'_Like he doesn't catch a nap or two on slow days._' she figuratively growled, barely opening her eyes to even a mere slit. For a moment, she vaguely considered crawling under her desk to attempt another nap, but her commonsense told her that with Greyson patrolling the hallways, she'd be lucky to catch just five minutes.

With a yawn and a stretch and a quick swig of cold coffee, she was back to work. The few cases she had come across that day didn't seem too interesting and those that were couldn't be handled at the desk. Just a few chemicals stolen from a couple of different firms. Nothing major, and nothing that could be used in pharmaceutical production. Her gaze then fell upon another case she had been given; a scuffle at one of the local bars. She noted the report was filed under a third party and not by the barkeep. "Very odd."She thought to herself, logging away a mental note to check the bar on her next patrol. There even seemed to be a couple of littering fines on the outskirts of her desk. Sighing, she leaned back in her chair, her eyes closed as she groggily thought, _'Since when did I get stuck with cheap cases like this?_'

"Since now I presume."

At first she jumped and grabbed the nearest case on her desk in a sloppy attempt to appear diligently at work until she caught sight of Holmes' shoes. Her expression changed from surprise, to relief, and finally to embarrassment. "Did I say that out loud?" she winced as she began to rub her eyes in a failing attempt to pass off her previous expressions.

"Well, there must be something worth _our_ while in that stack of 'cheap cases'." Holmes stated optimistically. His eyes narrowed as he surveyed the disheveled desk. "Might I have a look at those chemical thefts?" he inquired as he began to thumb through the different case files without waiting for permission.

"Holmes, what are you doing here? I didn't call you in for any help today." She said as her eyes began droop once more as if in protest of her encroaching curiosity.

"Small time crime. Whatever happened to have degraded your cases so?" he teased, sifting through the different files. "However, these chemical thefts do look interesting. What do you notice about these three thefts that are different from the others?"

As he began to lay the different cases in two separate areas, the distinction of difference became quite clear. One pile consisted of a large assortment of cases and appeared that just small amounts of the chemicals were stolen. In those cases, the chemicals were likely to have been misplaced or incorrectly documented. The latter consisted of three cases with a large amount of missing chemicals while all three thefts occurred within the same night.

"So you think this is connected?" she asked, her interest perking up as her hand crept towards her mug of coffee.

"It is definitely a possibility, but at best, an assumption. We should investigate the cases and keep an open mind until after we've seen all the evidence."

As Lestrade glanced over the three cases she suddenly pointed to one and said, "This is the only case where the criminal was actually spotted. Let's start there and then work our way to the other two and see if we can spot a possible pattern of the criminal."

"An excellent idea, Lestrade. I believe Watson wants to stay and update a few of his programs since that culinary magazine of his is upgrading their software. So, if you could be so kind as to provide the transportation……….."

As she looked up at him, she was no longer drowsy at all. "Anything to give me an excuse to get away from all of this deskwork."

-----

A/N: I would first like to apologize to my readers for not updating sooner. As usual, life got in the way, and derailed my plans to finish revising this chapter on time (however, this time I have a flash drive so I really don't have a broken computer excuse anymore). I also ended up writing another couple of chapters to my sequel to this story I've been planning and writing notes for, for about 3 years now (I know. I should finish one story before thinking up a sequel, but I have this tendency to write endings before beginnings etc).

Secondly, I have Greyson/Grayson spelled both ways in this chapter. I do realize this, before anyone points it out. Now, I remember about 2 years ago, there was a discussion on the correct spelling of his name on but I honestly don't remember what the official decision came to be. I know this may not be important, but if you do know the correct spelling, please tell me and I'll correct it in any future chapters that I have his name in. This may not be a big point or problem for some people, but I know everyone has a pet peeve, and the correct spelling or punctuation of names can be one.

Also, I'd like to thank Fallenavalon and Tea Yami for reviewing. I know from your reviews that you've both read my original story and I'm really flattered that you remember it so well (Josh is one of my favorite characters too, and not just because I created him hehe ). There is no better fuel for writing than an appreciative reader. Again, thanks for the reviews, and I really hope that you enjoy the rest of the story. Also, if you think I'm _overdoing _the revising,please tell me.

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	4. Chapter 4

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Chapter 4

As the cruiser lifted off the pavement, Holmes hastily fastened his safety belt and flattened against the seat, preparing for a rough flight. '_Well, I did ask for her transportation services_.' He thought grimly to himself.

Lestrade narrowed her eyes and scowled. "You act like I'm gonna kill you _every_ time you step in my cruiser. It's not like my driving is THAT bad." Lestrade grumbled gruffly as she swerved close to another police cruiser. "So where are we headed?"

"You think you would have asked that BEFORE taking off." He muttered crossly in return as he began to glance over the file once again. "Kathleen Drive, on the other side of New London. And I'm only preparing myself for the worst," he added as he looked back to find her deathly pale.

Suddenly she snapped into focus and jammed her foot on the accelerator lurching the cruiser 180 degrees as Holmes began to grip the sides of his armrests. "The name, Holmes?" she inquired quietly, gripping the steering wheel with white hands.

'_Ahhhh……a friend in need is a friend indeed….._' Holmes thought as he replied, "A Messy Fix."

A grim silence fell over the occupants lost in their own thoughts.

---

The cruiser landed with a jolt and a uniform clad occupant sprinted across the drive while the other calmly stepped from the cruiser and casually walked towards the door flung open by a particular apprehensive inspector.

---

Inspector Lestrade flung open the door and dashed frantically through the entrance, skidding to a halt in one of the few bare spots of the shop. Holmes strode nonchalantly through the entrance, his eyes immediately darting around the shop falling upon an assortment of tools strewn across the floor, equipment for just about anything littering the corners, various broken appliances in odd places, while spare parts connected the mess in a joyful medley of electronics.

On the counter there were almost six, judging from the broken mess, appliances that were in scrap condition. Nonrepairable and just barely recognizable. A young man in a white lab coat sat at the counter with a blue notebook in his right hand and an icepack in the other on his head staring at the Inspector by the entrance with a look of dread mixed with worry and a calm joy.

Inspector Lestrade on the other hand, stood by the door close to an old-fashioned clock that ticked with the seconds as the three hands on the clock moved in time. Yet another mess of spare parts littered the floor next to her while the doorknob on the door she had flung open rattled as it hung precariously from its place. She glared silently at the young man as she stood there, her right hand balled into a pale fist.

"And so it seems it has fallen upon me to break the silence." Holmes commented as he continued to scrutinize the room. Looking up, he noticed the young man was no longer staring at Lestrade but rather at him, as if noticing his presence for the first time. "Might I ask a few questions about the theft that occurred last night, Mr. Coultrane?"Holmes inquired lightly, glancing at Lestrade's slowly loosening fist.

"Ummmm…. sure mister……uh……who are you?" Josh replied in an uncertain voice as he began to eye Holmes' outfit with interest.

"I am Sherlock Holmes, and this is….well, you already know who this is, don't you?" Holmes stated knowingly.

The young man nodded in return and put his icepack down on the counter as he said, "Yeah, I do. And call me Josh. That Mr. Coultrane stuff is too proper."

"Well then, Josh." Holmes acknowledged, "Why don't you tell us your story from the beginning?"

As Josh looked up again and grinned, "Well, in the beginning, I was a wee little lad…."

"NOT THAT BEGINNING JOSH!" Lestrade snarled, fixing him with a new glare and forming another more promising fist.

Josh flinched and leaned away from Lestrade, "I was only trying to lighten the mood…"

"Sorry." She grumbled in return.

"No, I should be sorry. I wasn't taking it seriously" he apologized before continuing. "But really, this is what happened…………..

Taking a deep breath, he turned to Lestrade. "After you left last night, I sort of had this, uh, idea," he started cautiously, "and so I ended up spending another hour working on it before I decided that it was good enough to leave until tomorrow. So, I was coming out of the lab when I noticed this guy in here looking around…" He paused a moment, rubbing his forehead tenderly. "And so I said to the guy, **"I'm sorry, sir. We're closed now…..How'd you get in?"** And then…..he turned around."

Josh inhaled quickly at the memory and shuddered before he continued, "I'm going to be having nightmares of this guy for weeks…I mean, this guy would have to improve a lot JUST to look hideous!" he shuddered again, gripping his notebook tighter.

One thought simultaneously crossed Holmes's and Lestrade's minds. "_Fenwick._"

"It wouldn't have been so bad if he hadn't grabbed my arm and started snarling, wanting to know where **"Ze lab vus…"**" Josh glanced back at the lab entrance and continued, "I wasn't about to let him get near my precious laboratory, and so I told him to get out. Ummm. That was when he grabbed a computer and hurled it at me."

Josh took a moment to look back at the counter where the broken appliances were and then recalled, "I dodged it…but he kept throwing my customer's stuff at me. And then he threw a pipe at me…at least, I think he did. I remember before I blacked out completely he said, **"Vell, at least I've got dis consolation prize for my troubles."**'

His gaze darkened for a moment before returning to worry. "I don't know _how_ I'm going to explain this to my customers. I mean, the whole point is to return their stuff to them in better condition than when it came in or at least in the same condition and, and……..look at it." Josh tapped one of the broken appliances on the counter and despaired, "I've really failed them. I can't fix any of this now. What am I supposed to do? I know I have to refund but the policy……..there isn't any possible way that I could replace it all. Most of those were antiques! Then you know they'll add on the empathetic value! I'm doomed…'

As Josh began to stare at the floor unblinking with his head in his hands, Holmes had begun inspecting the door and chancing a few glances over his shoulder outside while Lestrade began reviewing Josh's story in her head.

'_So Lestrade was here yesterday and late last night.' _Holmes considered thoughtfully._ "Interesting, given that both are Americans. They must have known each other a rather long time. Many years obviously. Worry and fear only comes for dear friends. The question still remains as to how dear a friend he is...' _Holmes contemplated, still fiddling with the doorknob. He suddenly frowned once more feeling a deep pang and an unexpected drive to disprove Josh's story.

Holmes straightened his back and darted his eyes at Josh and questioned, "How could you not have heard him entering? The leverage placed on this doorknob to break it _should_ have been loud enough to wake your neighbors."

Wincing, Josh replied, "Ummm, well I was thinking and when I get caught up in my thoughts I sort of tune everything else out. It doesn't matter what. I just zone out."

"So true." Lestrade chuckled in agreement, looking back at the report. "Well, according to the report, all that was stolen was chemicals. What did he take as a _consolation prize _anyways, Josh? It wasn't another one of your weird, harebrained inventions that turn out to be worse for all of humanity than better?" Lestrade joked before she actually considered the possibility. "Was it?" Beth asked as she began to look at Josh very strangely. "I thought we had agreed on no more watches………."

Holmes looked away from the old clock he had been examining, intrigued by the odd comment.

"Uhhh. It wasn't anything like that Beth…..really. It was just……." Josh stammered.

"Oh, no. It wasn't your notes was it?"

Josh shook his head and quickly assured her, "Don't worry about it." as he began to grip his notebook tighter. "All pages checked and accounted for…". Josh paused a moment, realizing Holmes's interest in the conversation and motioned for Lestrade to lean in closer.

"There's no way he could have known," he whispered warily, "what was actually in it."

"Ahem," Holmes coughed loudly, his expression slowly souring at Josh before he continued. "Sulfuric acid is hardly something anyone would keep a batch that large in storage. This type of laboratory could make large quantities of the acid, but not as manufacturing. You don't have the manpower to keep production at that level. I suppose you were sub-contracted to make it?" Holmes asked, eyeing the laboratory with an obvious interest from its entrance.

"Yes." Josh replied sitting back down in his chair by the counter. "Jink Chemicals couldn't make their quota this month and so they sub-contracted me to meet it for them. That was the last shipment and it was fresh."

"Awww! You mean he stole the batch we made? That's it. I am going to nail Fenwick with this one! That slimedog's not getting away this time!" Lestrade claimed in her cocky yardie tone which shifted to uncertainty as she finished, "But how are we going to track him down this time? You were the only person to actually spot him coming or going, and the official reports didn't mention any suspicious ion trails near the scenes."

As Holmes returned from leaning into the laboratory he quickly added, "Actually, I don't believe finding Fenwick will be any problem at all. He's been trailing me all da**y**. He was outside when I checked that doorknob of yours as well."

Josh's expression darkened once again and Lestrade sidestepped to the wall before he continued, "I believe he might be trying to lure me into a trap. Fenwick is obvious enough to draw anyone's attention and when I spotted him this morning I decided that it would be best to see what information New Scotland Yard had picked up on him. However, the chemical thefts were the only items that he would have been interested in. From you're reaction to his, do we dare say 'finer' features, I'm almost certain that it was him. However, the question now is whether to follow him or not?"

Josh immediately stepped forward with his face set and stated, "Well, I'm in. I can't just sit by and let it slide."

"No." said Lestrade, calm and firm. "You are not coming. It's against Yard policy, it's too dangerous, and I think you've seen enough of Fenwick for one day."

"Hey!" he yelled dropping his notebook on the counter and throwing his hands up, "I worked hard on that…..errrr…..w-w-well……"

As Holmes silently observed the pair banter from the sidelines he pondered, _"Hmmmmm, blood on his right hand……so it's not from his head…..'_

"That what!" Lestrade snapped angrily at Josh. "You'd better tell me what he stole _now_ before I have to put it in the Yard's computer _later_." Met with a silence she finished in a softer tone, "Josh, if you're worried about it affecting your immigration status, I'll do everything in…."

"Like my immigration status even matters anymore!" Josh blurted out impertinently. "I just….well I…can't say what it is. And that's that."

Lestrade narrowed her eyes and clinched her fists, preparing for the battle at hand, "Stubborn."

"Pigheaded." Josh rebounded pointedly, visibly tensing in response to her formed fists.

"You idiot!" Lestrade viciously spat at him. "I swear you're a lightning rod for trouble!"

"At least I'm not dimwitted or completely useless!" Josh retorted, not daring to step any closer. "You're just being a jerk!"

"A jerk? And useless!" Lestrade rolled her eyes aggravatedly. "And what else? You think you're stronger or smarter than me?" She posed cruelly, glaring in his direction, having completely forgotten of Holmes' presence.

"Definitely smarter." Josh tested sharply, his jaw set and a piercing stare fixated on her.

"Ah," Lestrade smiled victoriously. "And yet you admit I'm stronger." She quipped threateningly, taking a menacing step closer to Josh. "You're only going to slow me down Joshua Alexander Coultrane."

Visibly tensing as Lestrade continued her slow and purposeful advance upon him, Josh turned his head away and closed his eyes just a moment before staring back, his face set with an obstinate expression. "I'm going to go, with or without you or your permission. You're always looking out for me. Just for once, let me be there to look out for you!"

Lestrade stopped and stiffened, appearing lost in her thoughts as she gazed vacantly at Josh's face. "Beth?" Josh coaxed softly, gently shaking her shoulder.

Lestrade shook her head softly, and said, "Give me one _good_ reason you should come with us."

Josh gulped and stared off to his right before answering, "What if he did steal my intellectual property? You'd never recognize my work…" With that he stood up again and reached for his notebook on the counter. "Because you have never really seen it in years."

"Your notebook." Lestrade announced sarcastically. "That's your intellectual property?"

Josh narrowed his eyes at Lestrade and nodded. "It all came from right up here." He said, tapping his temples lightly.

Beth looked towards Holmes in fleeting desperation for moral backup only to find him oddly staring in the opposite direction, as if acutely aware of his own awkward position. She let out a heavy sigh and reluctantly conceded, "I guess you could come along; just no hero stuff or anything too incredibly stupid. I'm not suppose to…."

"So, I can still do something stupid as long as it's not _incredibly stupid_, right?" Josh rebounded jokingly as his eyes began to light up in a moment's excitement.

"Josh." Lestrade growled menacingly.

"Ummm, right. Just, ah, let me run upstairs and slap something on this slight war wound." He quickly covered as he clenched his notebook and began to dash towards the stairs.

Lestrade leaned against the wall and glared crossly at the other side of the room, her thoughts slowly festering.

"You let him win." Holmes voiced casually, watching Lestrade's face for any reaction. "That was a pretty weak defense you put up and you still have no clue as to what else was stolen."

"Of course I don't. He's stubborn and he won't let up." She steamed, glaring at the piles of tools on littering the floor. "Think you could have done any better?" She questioned testily as she glanced over at Holmes who had his attention on her.

"Probably not." Holmes shook his head and continued. "If he won't tell his best friend, I doubt he'd tell a stranger."

"And just what, pray tell," Lestrade asked, raising her eyebrow, "makes you think he and I are best friends?"

Holmes softly chuckled and began. "You are being difficult Lestrade. It was obvious from your reaction to the location and to him that you've both been deep friends for quite some time, my dear Lestrade. I've never seen you as pale as when I mentioned Kathleen Drive. Your face immediately blanched. It was quite, memorable. A true testimony to your nervous system." He smirked at her, reveling in her discomfort of the slow dissection.

"Oh, well I'm so glad you noticed." Lestrade muttered crossly, beginning to pace near the stairs.

"Oh, I'm not done." Holmes quickly stated. "You didn't need the navigation systems of your hovercar to lead you to Kathleen Drive because you've already visited it many times before. When we arrived, you were much more interested in getting to the witness and so you dashed across the drive; you didn't even check the sign once to see if it was the right shop. With that I could safely predict that you were familiar with both the area and the shops and that you knew the witness well."

Hearing this, Lestrade began to wince as she looked up and sarcastically asked, "and I'll bet there's more, isn't there?"

Holmes' eyes began to sparkle as he continued on with his analysis. "You seemed both mad, most likely at the fact that he didn't call you as soon as it happened, and worried at the same time and so I began to interrogate Coultrane, feeling you might not trust your own voice. Am I right?"

"Yes. You're right." Lestrade replied in a monotone voice.

"You are both Americans and from the same general area by the accent. As I understand it, the accents of America still vary greatly depending on where you're from. You've both been through a great deal together. And something has happened to both of you at one point in time with…..watches, as I am led to believe? And, he holds some kind of knowledge in that notebook, a sort of intellectual property as he referred to it, which appears to be very important to both of you."

"What?" Lestrade said slowly with one eyebrow arched as she began to look at Holmes tensely.

"This knowledge… I don't know what it is you both know……but you obviously left some records of it….. I'm thinking that those records are located inside that blue notebook of his. It would appear that that notebook never left his side the entire time we've been here. And when you said, 'notes,' he visibly gripped that notebook tighter."

"Ok, that's….plausible….." Lestrade murmured softly as her eyes began to dart towards the ground.

"Lastly, neither of you needed apologies after that mock battle of yours." Holmes began to say jokingly. "The Watson of old used to get upset with me when I would get into one of my moods and play my violin as horribly as possible. He hated it when I would use him as a decoy and never once tell him. I've been in that situation before."

Lestrade began to nod as Holmes continued in a more uplifting voice, "It would appear that you both have had these battles many times before." Holmes paused a moment and frowned, "However, what strikes me as odd was your reaction to his pleading with you. Did something happen?"

"Nothing I really want to talk about…" Lestrade began before seeing the concern on Holmes' face. "But I guess it can't hurt to talk about it."

"It was just another workday really, back home," She started…..

-----

Elizabeth Lestrade was walking down grey, metallic halls with an electronic journal in hand, guided by memory as she worked away on the journal.

"Hey, Beth!" a familiar voice rang behind her, causing her to stop her stroll so her companion could catch up. "I've got a great idea!"

"Pfft." She taunted playfully. "If it came from you then it can't possibly be _great_." Turning around, she began to stroll down the hall once more, her best friend trailing in her wake.

"Come on Beth! Since when did you become such a workaholic anyways?" He pressed, preparing to launch into his plan. "The infamous botanical gardens won't have any flowers if we put it off much longer…"

"Hah!" She laughed loudly at him. "I'm not about to skip work to go walking through a trove of flowers!"

"What about that old saying, Beth? Always take some time to stop and smell the roses…"

"That, my friend," She quipped, "Is for twits without allergies." And with that she began to saunter down another hallway.

Jogging to catch up with her, her friend slid to a halt in front of her, dramatically grabbing her arms. "I'm going to go with or without you," he stiffly announced. "But," he began to whisper, "I'd much rather be with you, than going alone."

Sighing contently, Elizabeth Lestrade looked at her best friend and softly asked, "And why can't we just go tomorrow, Josh?"

"It's gonna rain tomorrow…" he grinned gleefully, knowing he had almost won. "Let's play hooky today and make up for it by coming in tomorrow." He tempted her a final time.

"If you insist, Josh." She reluctantly agreed, giving Josh a quick peck on the cheek. "Let's get out of here before Dr. Laken sees us and puts us to work…"

**---**

"That really doesn't sound so bad Lestrade…" Holmes stated, slightly confused.

"That wasn't." Lestrade agreed, staring at the stairway. "It was everything about that day afterwards that was awful. We never did make it to the gardens…"

The beat of someone tearing down the stairs broke them both out of their reveries and back to the business at hand.

"READY!" a singsong voice rang as its owner bounded into the room, patched up with a thin layer of gel in his hair obviously to protect the bloody mat that particular patch had become.

"Well then," Holmes said as he started for the door where the doorknob still hung loosely from its perch, "let us be off."

---

A/N: I've updated my profile for anyone who wants to read it. I received a few complaints about it being not even half a sentence, so I hope you're all happy. I also apologize for the time it took to come out with this chapter. April-May's a bad time for me. Also, I'd like to thank BW for helping me revise this one. If not for her witty humor I'd probably still be stuck at the fight scene, staring blankly at my monitor.

Belgian Waffle - Hey there buddy. You know I'll eventually work on that coughs Harry coughs Potter story again some day… And I'm working on the chapters as I come to them. I'm still trying to figure out a good way to deal with my 'infodump' chapters better than I did last time so it might take a while, but just know, I am working on them. There actually isn't a KOTOR section on I know this, because oftentimes when I've wanted to read a good KOTOR fic, I look and look, and I just can't find any. I guess I could try the star wars link in the book and movie section, but I'd really rather not sift through all the other content just to find a few good stories. Your suggestions are being kept in consideration (the ones I remember…), though you may want to email them to me next time so I'll remember better… I hear ya on the J/L pairing.

Fallenavalon - Thanks for being so consistent with reviewing. I'm sorry if my chapters don't come out as quickly as I hope for them to (and that I'm probably not as consistent with my timing), but at least they're coming. I'm really glad you like Josh as much as I do, considering he's such a fun character to write.

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	5. Chapter 5

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Chapter 5

A bent figure paced across a flat roof of a downtown shop. Every now and then, it would lift its discolored face to stare upon a small shop on the other side before returning to its chaotic thoughts, infuriated by his circumstances.

It all infuriated him. He was once the genius. It was once him orchestrating great crimes, mostly robbery, that all paled in comparison to the ones his new master had attempted. There. There was the crippling irony of the situation.

An experiment undertaken out of vanity and the overconfidence of several trial runs had given him trust. It was the masterpiece of his career. But somewhere, something backfired.

Suddenly, he was expendable, just as his experiments had once been. He was now the ordinary henchman, one of the many faceless masses that had succumbed to Moriarty's control. However, he had a face.

His face twisted in a pained grin as he mused over the irony of his current situation. His own creation that he had spawned had somehow overtaken his own operations and then, rather than destroying him as he had clearly expected, instead forced these peculiar circumstances upon him. Moriarty, who had every right to take vengeance upon him, had shown nobility, grace, and a twisted sense of humor. It was a truly sobering reminder.

Fenwick narrowed his eyes down at the shop, scanning its exterior and paying special attention to the shadows moving inside the window.

"Deez iz ridiculous!" He thought sourly to himself. They had moved away from the windows. Turning around, he strode towards his cruiser, checking that all systems were on standby before sitting down by the corner.

The tide of his thoughts surged once more, but on a different direction as he glanced again at the shop. Surely it would not take this long to interview this witness and leave? Something had to be wrong.

Perhaps they had noticed him earlier, as intended. He had stood openly in plain sight, watching them enter and for awhile watching them speak with the shopkeeper he had knocked out the night before. He smirked at the thought, laughing cynically to himself. Yes, that alone had been worth it. To have power again. To revel in the malevolence of what he had done.

The sweet thrill of robbery had run through his veins then. He had almost forgotten what it had felt like, even though he had only taken a mere trinket. Moriarty was always very exact in his expectations, never taking or leaving more than necessary, but surely he'd never notice this trinket's presence. Nevertheless, kicking someone already down was a sweet taste of his lost power.

He wrestled those thoughts away. It was better to remember them another time. For now, he had other problems to deal with. This was beginning to look like a long wait, and with nothing else to consume his mind, he could always plot. Anger poured across his features as he began to relive his fatal mistake. Spawning a genius and expecting an assistant. It was foolish of him, he knew, but all he had wanted was a partner, an associate, an extension with the capacity to think! Henchmen are, after all, incompetent and negligent of most crucial details. It all went wrong when he started experimenting with memory implantation, a sort of pseudoscience that was highly related to the cryptonizing devices used by law enforcement. He should have stopped with M11, the clone prior to the Moriarty he now served, but the drive to excel had driven him on.

However, he still had the failsafe, a tested way to shut Moriarty down whenever necessary. Being a henchman really wasn't that bad after all. Letting someone else do all the plotting and planning was a quite enjoyable break, and once his creation had succeeded at last, the break would be over. Yes, it was demeaning, redundant, and at times like these, a waste of precious time, but hopefully the means would be worth the end.

The light sound of a door shutting broke him out of his thoughts. He turned around and grinned malevolently as the trio left the shop. There was one in particular that had caught his eye. The one he had robbed earlier took some extra time, adding onto the yardie's already mounting frustration, to program his "closed sign" and engineer a make-shift lock on the door. Yes, the boy was smart, or at least inventive. He sniggered softly at the thought of a rematch. Perhaps this time he would pilfer through the backpack hanging lightly from the engineer's shoulder. There must be something else memorable to take.

"Le temps pour rapporter dans." He thought aloud, savoring the last of his meager time before returning to the grinding day of a henchman. He turned towards his vehicle and began to make the preparations.

---

The small group climbed into the cruiser, Lestrade driving and Holmes beside her. Josh in the back leaned forward against his seatbelt in an effort to be included in the _front seat_ conversation. After hastily fastening his own seatbelt, Holmes looked over the files one more time before giving Lestrade a wry smile. "So," he began almost mischievously, "what were you doing late last night at Mr. Coultrane's, my dear Lestrade?"

Lestrade's cheeks instantly reddened at the underlying insinuation before she snapped back, "Chemistry, Holmes. What did you think?"

"Chemistry," He echoed, nodding his head in her general direction. "And just what _kind_ of chemistry was that?" he pressed on, rubbing his chin gingerly in thought. "And I'm sure it took you all day and over half the night to manufacture that batch? If the attack occurred around 4AM, you must have left at about 3?"

As Lestrade turned another shade redder than before, Josh piped in, "We were just doing the _old friend gig_. You know," he began to ramble, "Chatting about the weather….and, errr, other…stuff." Looking a bit less pressed added in a jolly tone, "Time flies when you're having fun."

Holmes chuckled lightly as he replied, "Indeed, it does, Mr. Coultrane."

"It's Josh." Josh replied reflexively.

Lestrade turned the ignition and slowly shifted in her seat giving Josh a warning stare. "Let's go." She growled as she maneuvered the hovercar roughly off the pavement and into the skyways. Driving in a large circle around the area, Lestrade sighed, still flushed and irritated. "I don't know about you Holmes, but I'm not seeing Fenwick."

"Oh, he's bound to be around here somewhere, Lestrade." Holmes commented. "He's…"

Suddenly, Lestrade's internal vidphone began to ring. Instantly recognizing the com signal, she grimaced and prepared for a long, loud, jarring lecture from Grayson as she reached for the com. "Josh! Get down!" she ordered, consequently hearing a soft thump in the backseat. She slowly punched the com, swallowing a moment to regain her composure.

"**LESTRADE! WHAT ARE YOU DOING THERE! I THOUGHT I TOLD YOU…"**

"Ah, something came up Chief and umm…Holmes and I are inspecting it." She interrupted, pretending to watch another vehicle from her window.

"**WHAT!" ** Chief Inspector Greyson bellowed, the tips of his ears rising to a bright red hue. **"I want you," **he continued, softer but firmly, **"back in this office _NOW_ and that…" **The image flickered a moment, as Greyson continued growling orders, **"dead detective out of my hair." **He glanced down at some files lying on his desk before continuing,** "Scrap that detective. Since you're already out there, get a lock on this hovercraft signature. Track it and wait for backup. Understand, Lestrade?" **He finished eyeing her suspiciously.

"But Chief," she began cautiously, "can't you do that by satellite?"

"**Of course I can Inspector, but I want you to do it. This is the same signature as the crook involved in those recent chemical thefts I left on your desk this morning. Follow him and nothing more."**

"Yes sir." She grinned, punching the com off. "Well, that went well….much better than I thought it would." She turned towards Holmes, her grin changing to a troubled frown. "When are things ever this easy?"

"Never, in my experiences." Holmes frowned, pulling the files out again. Skimming through them once again he asked, "Are you sure that was Grayson?"

"Huh?" Josh popped up in the backseat, breaking in. "You mean that was Beth's boss? Heh, he does sorta look like a bobcat when he's mad…."

She shook her head in annoyance at Josh and remarked, "I could have sworn I _told_ you to get down."

"I did…." He insisted innocently, rifling through his backpack, "For the most part."

Lestrade rolled her eyes and began to punch in the signature. "Well, considering I just skipped out on all that _lovely_ deskwork," she began to speculate, "and you were probably in plain sight _Josh_, I just got off free…" Lestrade furrowed her eyes and glanced at Holmes again. "The hovercraft signal wasn't in the reports, was it?"

"It was not." Holmes agreed, already putting the case reports away. "Did anyone else notice the video feed flicker?"

"Sorry guys, I must have been down for that part." Josh guessed, pulling his blue battered notebook out of his backpack. Lestrade shook her head and began to punch in the signature given. "Well, what kind of flicker are we talking about here? Was it like static interference, or just a, umm, like a flash of nothingness?" Josh leaned his head back and gently scratched the back of his neck. "That, uh, must have made no sense at all."

Lestrade turned around and smiled at Josh, tilting her gaze at him while the hovercraft slowly veering off the heading. "A blink, perhaps?" She reasoned with him.

"Exactly!" He concluded excitedly. Leaning back in his seat, he finished cheerfully, "I don't know how anything I've said these past few years have managed to be translated without you around."

"They probably haven't." She joked, glancing back at the wheel to make some minor course corrections.

Holmes raised an eyebrow and nodded at the two friends. "It was as if the screen blinked, twice." Looking at Josh, he inquired, "That would be?"

"Good chance it's a P. I. E." Josh quickly surmised, leaning forward again with his notebook in his lap. "A P. I. E. or a PIE is a Personal Interference Emitter, I imagine rewired for video interference. People use them on their mobiles to stay either invisible to the net or to pull pranks on their friends. I had a few customers bring some in a couple of months ago."

"And they're illegal Josh." Lestrade muttered, attempting to concentrate on driving again. "You will give me their names?"

"Hey, I did not know they were illegal here…" he admitted, holding both his hands up. "And yeah, I'll give them to you."

"Excellent, I'll get the names next time I visit." Lestrade replied triumphantly. "Now, you were saying?"

Josh rolled his eyes and ran his fingers over his still tender wound, "PIEs… When rewired for video interference, it isn't perfect, and you'd need the original signal information to make it work, but yeah, it can go right over a strong signal and basically redisplay anything a skilled user would want. Even sound…"

"So, if a PIE was used for that signal, Greyson has a mole to worry about." Holmes surmised, looking back out the front window.

"Yep." Josh echoed, leaning back again. "Either that or he broadcasts himself to the world."

"An obvious trap Moriarty has laid for us; shall we take it, Lestrade?" Holmes tempted, his voice energized and daring.

"I thought we were going after Fenwick…" Josh reminded them softly.

Lestrade chuckled and grinned, "They run in the same pack, Josh. Trap or no trap," she paused a moment and glanced at Holmes, "let's go."

---

A/N: I'd first like to apologize for not updating sooner. I have had a stressful past month and even though I have checked in on this story from time to time, it seems I could never work on it for more than 10 minutes at a time. I also want to thank fallenavalon and Anime and Manga Lover for reviewing my last chapter. It's wonderful to see which parts really stood out and it does help to know how the chapter felt. I try to convey a lot about the characters through my writing and sometimes I do wonder if it all came out right.

Secondly, I did not even finish revising the first half of this chapter before I realized that I didn't even recognize it anymore. Yes, for those of you who have read the unfinished, unrevised version on Maureen's site, this _has_ indeed had a major facelift. I took some advice and feedback from some reviews that I received 3 years ago on this chapter and I believe that they have helped me improve it quite a bit. I'd like to say thank you to everyone who sent me those reviews 3 years ago. I still remember them (especially the Smeagol comments; they still make me laugh), though I don't have any copies to look back on, I hope I'm a better writer for them. Of course, if anyone preferred the old version, I'd really like to know (which parts, the whole thing, etc).

Third, a small warning. The next chapter may be a bit late in coming out. It too will be receiving a major facelift (I remember all the great feedback and advice I got on it 3 years ago too) but hopefully I'll be able to get it out a bit faster than this past chapter. I've been seriously stressed lately, and with the stressor removed, everything should march on smoother. Hope to hear from you all.

Anyways, BW supplied me with the words "Le temps pour rapporter dans" meaning "time to report in" for anyone who doesn't know the French language and was wondering (much like I was when she had it translated for me).

Ah, and I almost forgot. I also updated the summary. I figured, what I had originally wasn't really much of a summary.

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New Summary: While New London is under siege by a record breaking heat wave, Lestrade and Holmes investigate some suspicious chemical thefts that lead them to an old friend of Lestrade's, and an old nemesis of Holmes'.

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	6. Chapter 6

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Chapter 6

---

Her glance had not been missed at all by a particular member of the trio gliding across the New London airways. Such looks were familiar and at times, even missed, especially in the bustling world of this century. He leaned his forehead against the nearest window and closed his eyes in contemplation.

It was truly beginning to seem as if this world had left him behind. His life, he mused, had become stagnant like an old overgrown forest too thick to allow the spring saplings to survive. He had become time's passenger, a mere spectator of the world barely having any effect upon the direction it flowed. Reflecting upon his current circumstances, it was an ironic reminder that he was a passenger of another kind as well.

Almost immediately, his mind began to swarm around his current circumstances and how foolish he had been allowing her to drive. He hadn't even put up an argument when she strode towards her hovercraft, keys in hand. His face broke out into a sad reminiscing smile and he thought to himself, "Well, they say God looks after drunks and fools." He then opened his left eye and fixed it upon her figure across the car; his grin unconsciously grew wider. "I must be a fool..." He admitted to himself, still eyeing her with a soft and loyal gaze.

However, such carefree thoughts were short-lived. He soon began to reflect again on that connecting glance that had not been thrown his way. Josh sighed and looked down at his closed, worn-out notebook. Its blue cover was bruised and battered and in some places, scraped to reveal a fleshy white as if it had suffered scars throughout the years. Things had certainly changed with time and he couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy at the luxury it had afforded Holmes. After all, glances like that from her had been few and far enough in between before but had almost always been reserved for him. It was a silent communication, perfected over years of hardship and confusion. The art of nonverbal communication was a somewhat forgotten language and he missed the quiet reassurances he used to receive from it. "No." Josh muttered silently, allowing his lips to move without words. "I miss her."

It was a conclusion he had regularly arrived at but never had it been so strong. Throughout the years between their split, he had always felt still somewhat included, though they had agreed to disappear and break all links. A note here, an email there and an occasional call or visit always kept them up to date with each other. It was only after seeing her next to her childhood idol that the isolation had really hit home.

He looked back towards her as she tapped one of the hovercraft's instruments, swearing under her breath at the second-rate vehicle she had ended up with. He smiled, savoring the image. She had always said if they ever would have a chance to be an item again, he would be the first to know and he trusted her fully on that promise.

He eyed the back of Holmes' head distrustfully a second before he shook his own head in resignation. The man was totally unreadable as far as his relationship to Beth and staring at a headrest and a pair of shoulders would get him nowhere.

He rested his head back on the seat and shifted a little to get comfortable. There were an extra set of eyes in this hovercar and it would do him no good to broadcast his ponderings to the current occupants. They were an odd couple, if the term could have applied, and far too professional to cause him the worry it had, he concluded. He closed his eyes again and slowly began to clear out his mind. Things were still fuzzy and it was difficult to think past the tensions in the hovercraft and the pulsing pain from his injury, but he had to get his mind in better condition for whatever lay ahead of him.

---

Ever since they had decided to continue onward, knowingly into the trap, silence had prevailed throughout the hovercraft. Most notably, the two friends had become especially silent, almost ignoring each other. That is, _almost_. Though he could not see Mr. Coultrane with his back to him, he could only surmise that the consistent shuffling and deeper breathing signified a focused contemplation. Perhaps, he thought casually, the young man was realizing the situation he had put himself into.

Another possibility, plausible from the young inventor's history, chilled Holmes to his very core. This sensation or feeling about another was not exactly new, but certainly in a different context from its previous upwellings. Could he be jealous of this Coultrane that had so adamantly slipped his way into their group? This of course, would lead to the question of the meaning of _their_ and a reason as to _why_ he would be jealous. He certainly could feel a bond growing between himself and the Inspector, but it was most assuredly only a bond between friends. Considering that very nature of their bond, he would have no reason to be jealous or even lightly suspicious of Mr. Coultrane's intent. It was a very unsettling thought as to why his presence evoked this feeling and one that required further examination.

Of course, the primary cause of this emotion was no less intriguing. Even as he stared ahead to the clear blue horizon, he could still see her glancing at her rearview mirror from the corner of his eye. It was a nervous action, repetitive and lined with worry. It was frequently aimed at the one in the back, though occasionally it would divert to himself as well. The inventor was on her mind and his own mood was darkening by the second because of it.

Then compiling with all of that, there was the well hidden, or rather, newly uncovered history that her and Mr. Coultrane had shared, and indeed they had shared one. Even through the weeks and months that he and the Inspector had slowly become friends more so than business associates, he had never once seen a videograph of this Mr. Coultrane nor had he ever heard her mention him, even in passing. Considering the apparent depth of their friendship, it had been an elusive detail and one that had been a major piece of her life. This was a Lestrade he was unfamiliar with and it intrigued him all the more.

However, this information had obviously been well guarded before. It would take a well placed question to really open their defenses. If only finding such words were easier.

Holmes turned his head and gazed out at the New London landscape. They had flown over the inner city and were gliding above a high-rise modern suburban network. For the first time since his resuscitation, he could see for miles across the New London skies and could even pick out the small nondescript dots migrating through the streets. This, he assumed, was people walking about the area, too far below to discern any characteristics other than their very existence. Bright colors stood out from the buildings against a clear blue sky where once it had been suppressed in the grey, drab atmosphere of the New London fog. He looked straight ahead again and gauged the visibility. "Peculiar weather we're having lately, isn't it?" He inquired aloud, addressing no one in particular as he continued to observe the clear skies.

The tension within the hovercraft seemed to crackle at his question and Holmes' eyes uncontrollably targeted Inspector Lestrade. She had averted her eyes from the rearview mirror and she was holding her breath as she stared at the airway before them. She gripped the wheel with white knuckles though her eyes inevitably fell towards her lap. Behind him, the inventor had sharply inhaled and held his own breath at the mentioning just a few seconds before responding nonchalantly, "I guess."

With those words, the tension that the two had built up dissipated like a wave having crashed upon a shoreline. Holmes knew he had stumbled close to their connection, though it had been entirely accidental and uncalculated. Keeping his stare fixed on her, he asked, almost innocently, "Something wrong, Lestrade?"

"No." She replied unconvincingly, her voice jumping to a higher pitch. Her hands loosened on the steering wheel and she slowly raised her head. He gazed intently at her, unblinking as she continued to slowly break.

"Maybe…" she faltered. She raised her eyes towards the heavens as if attempting to seek some escape or solace in its infinite reaches and in finding none she resigned, "yes." Her final word resounded in defeat.

Holmes nodded and raised his eyebrows slightly beckoning her on. It was the first time to his knowledge that she had ever tried to withhold information from him and he couldn't help but wonder how long she had done so.

"I…" She stumbled, clearly caught once again by her own erected defenses. "I…" she repeated again with a tone of uncertainty.

'Mmhmm…' Holmes thought to himself. 'Maybe she just needs a bit more prodding.'

The atmosphere of the hovercrafted remained stalled, though a slight shuffling could be heard from the backseat. A minute passed. Four eyes remained locked on Lestrade's deliberating form. She drove automatically, not really paying any attention to her flight pattern and her eyes darted about in different directions. It was then that her internal storm came to a halt. Her eyes opened a bit wider as she stared ahead, out of the hovercar and her face became still and stoic. "I think I might know why." She stated resolutely.

"Beth!" Josh exclaimed, cutting off any further explanation. He reached towards her, passing into Holmes' vision in the process. Panic had spread across the young man's face. Holmes frowned bitterly.

The Inspector held the wheel with one hand and twisted around to face her friend. "I trust him," she stately with a genuine smile. Her voice was laced with what could have been described as realization and her dark blue eyes sparkled with a new unidentified light.

Mr. Coultrane halted, his expression frozen, as they both met eye to eye. 'Strange,' Holmes thought as he observed the pair, just how much meaning was conveyed through so few words. Even more, that their eyes still carried on a silent, private conversation through channels only deep friends could understand. It was unsettling and even more so, isolating.

The young engineer's shoulders sank and his face fell. A couple of seconds passed and the two friends' eyes remained locked as the hovercraft continued to veer off-course. Finally, the young man glanced from Lestrade to Holmes and then back. His eyes, Holmes reflected, quivered with an emotion that he could not fathom. It must be uncertainty, he reasoned.

The inventor closed his eyes and sighed in a calm and controlled manner. Opening them again, he looked to her face and said, "And _I_ trust you." Averting his eyes from her face he muttered sourly, "Do whatever you want." Lestrade's face broke into a grin that was remarkably short-lived. "But first," he stipulated, "are there any active recording devices in this hovercraft?"

Where first his thoughts had been revolving about the connotations of Josh's first reply, Holmes' mind spun off on a tangent at the mentioning of recording devices. It must be sensitive information, but even so, why here and now? An ominous feeling was beginning to surface, rising out of the awkward half-silent conversation present and the extremely confined spaces of the craft.

Lestrade turned back to the wheel and made some quick course adjustments. She furrowed her eyes and groaned, "Likely."

"Alright," the young engineer responded in finality. "Either disconnect them or talk elsewhere."

Holmes kept his face very still as he watched the pair continue to argue with one another. Lestrade first griped accusingly, "You planned that all along!" to the inventor whom seem to almost take it as an insult.

"Ugh!" he had sputtered, annoyed and hurt at the same time, "I'm just looking out for you!"

'This must be sensitive information,' Holmes thought hurriedly, continuing to listen to the two friends bickering in the hovercraft. 'The only thing those two are even old enough to have been involved in that needed this degree of discretion was that war back in 2098, but even so, neither seem militaristic and Lestrade has yet to mention any time in it….' Another thought suddenly struck Holmes as if he had been sucker-punched in the back of the head. 'Or of it! Lestrade has yet to mention anything about that war. I know pieces of her childhood; I know pieces of her life in New London, but nothing of those years surrounding the war!'

Lestrade looked down and confessed softly, "I…I know Josh…I'm sorry."

'The war…the weather, of course!' Holmes' mind was racing with this new information and already questions were forming in his head that he itched to ask Lestrade over tea back at his flat. What had she been doing during the war?

She turned back to the front and looked herself hesitantly at the various devices about the hovercraft, all present to record criminal transport and monitor police patrolling efficiency. Spending no more than a second with her visual sweep she faced the wheel and began to speak, "I don…"

"Don't worry about it." The inventor interjected from the backseat gloomily. "I'll do it."

Holmes continued to listen quietly to the pair. He surmised he had become what the Irregulars had oftentimes referred to as _a fly on the wall_ even though the conversation had been originally directed at him. However, though it felt rather awkward, it still had a particular usefulness. A faint smile broke his, till then, stoic façade. 'I rather prefer this kind of lively banter.' He thought to himself, 'The very conversation had been quite enlightening for me.'

She tried again, "No! Josh, if they trace that back to you, you'll be banned from the country!"

'Aha…' Holmes thought, slowly putting the pieces together. 'and he must be…' He took another breath as his head spun with the possibilities. 'that's where they… '

"It isn't as if I'm planning on staying anyways, Beth." Mr. Coultrane said remorsefully, leaning forward again. "I want to, since it means so much to you."

The engineer reached back to his bag and began to pull out several small tools. He leaned forward again and realized he was being observed. Narrowing his eyes at Holmes he warily asked, "Mind taking that panel off over there….uh…" He continued to look at Holmes from the corner of his eye, not once breaking into a smile. "...sir?"

"Holmes." He replied to the engineer, removing the panel while never once taking his eyes off of the man.

"Right. Holmes." Mr. Coultrane replied stiffly.

'And now I am a fly on the wall near a flyswatter.' Holmes surmised.

Mr. Coultrane had soon enough shifted his testy gaze to the exposed innards of the panel, and Holmes was quick to follow. The circuitry glistened from the shiny bright grey and golden metals used in its making and several colored wires sprung from different nodes upon the circuit-board. There were several permanent safety connections between various parts though only one or two seemed marked in any way. The engineer studied the exposed circuits from afar, tracing imaginary pathways in front of him in the air with his finger.

Lestrade concentrated fully on driving and Holmes could not help but note how she was careful not to disturb her companion with even the faintest of sounds. 'I suppose,' he thought, 'I should do the same. If he really knows what he's doing it would be best not to disturb him.'

The engineer mindlessly scratched the back of his head before reaching forward and leaning over the seat, separating Holmes and Lestrade from each other's view. He peered at the different components and reached his right hand over to the left-most marking on one of the components. "Holmes." He tried, "do me a favor and press your pointer finger on that indentation over there on that silver one." Mr. Coultrane bit his lip as he continued to press his own indentation and watched as Holmes complied.

The indentation itself was a tiny scratching, almost resembling the metal itself. Holmes rubbed his forefinger over it before allowing it to settle on top. He looked over the inventor and saw the man had pressed his own finger against the first marking so hard it was bent backwards from the resistance. Ahh, Holmes realized, he's making an impression and wants me to do the same. Holmes pressed harder upon the marking, though he could not feel any effect from the attempt. The engineer attempted to lean over a little to assist, though after only being able to move a centimeter or two he gave in to words instead. "Push harder. With something that small, if you aren't feeling a good amount of pain from it, you're not pushing hard enough."

Holmes gritted his teeth and nodded; he pushed his pointer finger until it too was bent backwards and had faded to a pale ivory color from the pressure. Josh removed his own and leaned back to a suitable spot, allowing Lestrade to peek past him towards Holmes. He caught her smiling at him before the engineer rested his head on the seat dividing them, his hand hovering in the air before him, and muttered, "Dangit." Holmes tilted his head back just far enough to read the red raised skin on the engineer's finger. _Baros Inc. _Hmm, must be the internal air pressure stabilizer. His own forefinger was beginning to tingle from the awkward angle and pressure, and his skin began to pulse with pain. "Right. Let me see it." Mr. Coultrane said, turning his head to stare at Holmes. He removed his own finger from the barely visible marking and held it in front of his own gaze. _Pixez. _

"What is it?" Lestrade asked curiously. In response, both Holmes and Josh raised their forefingers at her, showing the fading effects of their work. She snickered at their synchronous antics and said, "and…what do they say?"

Holmes smiled at her and raised his hand a bit higher, "security box." Of course, the whole connotation of their current deed brought him back to the reason it had all began and his own ponderings. 'She trusts me. As a gentleman, I cannot betray such trust, but then, why does this feel different? It doesn't feel like trust.'

Mr. Coultrane leaned back and picked through the tools he had laid beside him earlier. "Okay you two. I need some quiet again…"

The engineer leaned over the seat again and walled off Holmes' view of Lestrade once more. He reached over to the circuit-board and began testing various different components, muttering softly to himself at times and retesting others when he caught 'odd' readings.

Holmes leaned back in his seat and straightened his posture, attempting to look over the inventor's back to Lestrade. She had gone back to staring at her tracking instruments and the airspace ahead though her features looked relaxed and strangely content. She did not appear to be anxious. 'This isn't just trust,' Holmes told himself. 'This is faith.'

The inventor had switched between his tools in his hands and began fiddling with the climate control. "Hey Beth…" he posed, "Is this a standardized model or is it an IFM?"

Lestrade frowned and continued to stare out the window. "I don't know." She blurted out unthinkingly. "It's my hovercraft. I drive it. I wreck it. I get a new one." Her once small smile spread into an evil grin.

The engineer visibly tensed and Holmes could feel his own body bracing itself for the inevitable impact he had come to expect with Lestrade's driving even though they were nowhere near any high-rise buildings. The engineer replied in an unsettled tone to her. "I really didn't need to know that last part…"

Lestrade's eyes peered over at him playfully and it was clear she was remembering the final flights of her past vehicles. Restraining the shudder resurfacing with the memories of those wrecks, Holmes cleared his throat and answered for her, "Standardized, although the backup circuitry should be located somewhere in there."

"Ooh..." Lestrade awed, looking at Holmes as if in a new light. "Impressive."

Mr. Coultrane gaped a second and then nodded at Holmes approvingly. It was a start it seemed. "After that incident in the Underground with Watson disconnected, I did a little bit of research to update myself."

"Is there any subject you don't know a little something about?" Mr. Coultrane asked in an honest and curious voice.

"I try to be very well-rounded." Holmes replied, nodding at the young man. "It helps in my business. However, I'm sure there is something out there still that I lack the knowledge of." The young man nodded in agreement and set about to rewiring the panel though it felt as though perhaps he might have earned an inkling of respect.

"That's the way it always should be. One should never live life without the thrill of discovery." The inventor leaned back in his seat again and cheered, "Alright! Let's fry this thing!" He began to put his tools away and ordered, "Turn on the climate control please."

Lestrade reached over and spun the knob, receiving a sizzling sound in response. "What the…?" she started, leaning forward to check an instrument on her dashboard. "I just lost GPS and the altimeter."

"Oh…" Josh mused faintly from the backseat. "So that's what that was…"

"Josh." Lestrade warned, gritting her teeth threateningly.

"No worries Lestrade. The security system is gone too," said Holmes as he checked various devices that were at least within reach for functionality.

"I had to reroute through it. At least it wasn't your navi-box." Mr. Coultrane finished, immediately turning sour once more. The sound of paper rustling marked the end of his participation in the conversation.

Lestrade leaned her head back on the headrest and closed her eyes. "Well, we're past the point of no return." The soft scratching of pencil upon paper in the background ceased and Holmes stared straight at her contemplating form. She turned her attention directly to Holmes and asked. "How much do you know about the Weather Wars?"

Holmes lifted his right hand to his chin and thought for a moment.

_---_

_Holmes stood, feet planted on top of the hardwood floor of 221b Baker Street. In his hand dangled a vid-set, which, according to a rather interesting female Inspector, comprised an account of a history his death had prevented him from witnessing. Needless to say, Holmes was more than a little skeptical. Even with a significant advance in technology, as had happened, there would be no method of securing every happenstance that had truly caused the world to come to this conclusion. Only the major events would be objectively worth tallying in such artifacts._

_Eyeing the headset cautiously, he glanced about the room first before slowly lowering it over his head._

_A semi-transparent screen flickered to life in front of the black background of the history vid-lessons. After a moment's hesitation, Holmes' mind's eye finally focused on the display and gently nudged the neural equipment to pick up right at the era after his death._

_"Fascinating…" He whispered somewhat enthusiastically, turning his head ever so slightly in an attempt to see past the field of vision the vid-processor would allow him. Though he would only stand there barely a half an hour, entire centuries of history sparkled before his eyes._

_Eventually coming to a more recent historically significant event, at least by modern time's standards, Holmes slowed the video feed and watched intently. War had recently brewed and overfilled several mugs. He could not help musing to himself the incapability of man's nature to move past such acts._

_The video feed began to resume its original pace and several images flashed through the vid-processor. "Back! Go back a bit…" Holmes muttered even though by then he had realized the vid-processor would react to his neurological signal to rewind instead of his voice. An instant later, the images and narration slowed and Holmes witnessed warfare of the twenty second century._

_Everything was exactly the same. The rising tensions, the international threats lingering in the air after every political encounter, and the single break in the ice that would cause a massive wave of confrontations, all had not changed after all these years. Even the fears evident in the people's eyes were exactly the same. He sighed and tilted his head towards his left. An image of the first successful strike in America loomed before his field of vision. A tall structure stood in the distance as fire danced in the skies above it. Its shape was unmistakable; several furrows and grooves arranged in a sigmoid-like pattern arched up the silvery dome. Holmes tilted his head again, and attempted to locate a reference for this image and structure inside the processor. Instantly, a window popped up on the edge of his vision and scrolled through several lists before repositioning itself over the playing image and enlarging its window. Technology in Sector Twelve (T12) appeared to be a rather short file considering its importance. A mental note would be made to later investigate the shortcomings of this interesting history set. Scanning over the contents, Holmes read over the bits of information, location, date, and general knowledge given of the structure before a silent explosion cascaded across the structure, sending plumes of smoke and dust into the air above._

_Holmes nodded to himself. "Of course," he thought sourly, "bigger bombs." His mind launched another query to the vid-processor and a separate box flashed into existence to the right of his field of vision. Within moments, it too had planted itself front and center, completely blocking out the background images this time. Turning off the sound functions, he read the file, both a mix of news-clippings and hard governmental facts, at his own pace._

_Tensions escalated upon the introduction and international confirmation of these 'Technology Facilities' as thus coined by American physicists, being truly capable of altering weather patterns across the continent. Canada and Mexico have already raised concerns over unnatural water depletion from their lands as a possible result from this dramatic new power and many other countries have voiced concerns over the possibilities for this capability to be abused in potential warfare. _

_These Technologies are currently manned by civilians though it is uncertain as what financial sources apart from HAARP these facilities are stemming from. Multiple sources are possible. Eighteen facilities have currently been erected and 3 more are currently being constructed at the time of this report. Little is known of the internal structure and workings of these facilities and attempts to……_

_Holmes shook his head and closed his eyes a moment. Though the world had changed so radically from its former self, things really were still all the same._

_---_

He casually turned his head to face her and with a sincere look of naivety, learned from his years of being under disguise, Holmes said, "Oh…just a couple of names and dates. Nothing much, really." He studied her searching face for her reaction and received a rather disappointed response. "What happened?" He gently pressed, glancing back at a sour but quiet Coultrane. "Do you really think that could be the source of this sudden drought?"

Lestrade held her breath and nodded. "Well, not really directly, but it may be a good part of it. I just think that it is far too coincidental that this rogue drought has happened right as the International Council started demanding again for the blueprints, simulations, and supporting theories that the Technologies were based on. It is almost as if someone is trying to sabotage the US's efforts to obtain international approval for its ethical use!" She paused a second for a breath and finished, "and with Britain being one of our only remaining allies, if what I think is happening here, really is, then we probably will have lost our only friend left."

Something she had said didn't seem right and so Holmes posed, "I was unaware the US was trying to do anything of the sort right now." Peering over at her with a look of patience that completely defied his sudden desire to know everything in mere minutes, he awaited her response.

"Well, it hasn't been publicized and for good reason. That was part of the agreement that the talks were even based on. I know some people who have been called back to assist in the process, people I worked with."

As she spoke, Holmes narrowed his eyes at her. "So, you worked in the Technologies?" He stared silently a moment, watching her nod before he inquired, "How? You must have been too young when they were still functioning."

Lestrade shook her head and smiled. "I was but a mere intern in those days, but I do miss them." She turned to look at Holmes while still following the ion trail ahead of her. "There has to be one around here somewhere."

Still, things just didn't seem to add up. Holmes sighed and wondered aloud, "You believe a person of ill-intent has built a massive but hidden facility with these capabilities and are now seeking to roast the citizens of the New London area with these same capabilities? Forgive me Lestrade," he said, looking back at her, "if I find this thinking somewhat presumptive and flawed."

Lestrade bit her lip and stared pointedly ahead, ignoring Holmes' gaze. "Look, I know it sounds spectacular…crazy," she bit her lip, "paranoid…and I have absolutely no proof whatsoever, but, people have been disappearing. Important people, Holmes, key engineers…some that I knew." Her voice cracked as she struggled to continue. "The ones I knew would never want to just disappear. They had families, careers, and possible re-employment looming in their futures. Most had intimate knowledge of the construction requirements of the Technologies. It's just too much of a coincidence."

Holmes slowly nodded in acknowledgement and said, "That I agree with, but how did you manage to land an internship with what was reportedly the most difficult and time-consuming so early on?"

At this Lestrade gave a wry smile and closed her eyes a moment, reliving her memories. "It definitely wasn't on purpose…"

---

_Two friends laughed as they walked down one of the several hallways leading out of the main presentation room for the neo-science convention. They had just been through two days of listening to random lectures in the main lecture hall and browsing through the miniature replicas of various experiments being placed on display at the convention. It was a private convention designed for both students and leading scientists interested and the two friends had finally thought of a shaky but plausible plan on how to avoid the various boring lectures their teacher had assigned that they specifically attend by means of hacking into the main hall's computer system to enable a single massive scan to both devices. Neither had really thought through how they would have the scanning times be accurate for each lecture, but then, they were just trying to skip out of the more boring ones. Rounding the corner of the hall, the first friend gasped and jumped back, grabbing her friend and pulling him back with her. _

"_Hide me!" She whispered urgently, "It's him….again…." Her friend instantly knew the person she spoke of, a young, balding man with a strangely shaped mustache who had been popping up everywhere they went. _

_However, before either could turn to run, the young man rounded the corner and held out his hand to both of them. "Well, just the two future scientists I was hoping to see! I hope that last lecture from Dr. Jorgensen didn't bore you two."_

_Throwing on the most strained fake smile, the girl exclaimed with a touch of exasperation bleeding through her voice, "Dr. Gallagher, it's….so nice to see you…again…" She turned towards her friend and tried to beam a mental message across, but her friend seemed to be having a much easier time pretending not to be bothered by the professor's sudden arrival._

_As she attempted to find her voice again, her friend spoke up cheerfully. "It was about as riveting as watching that dead tree back home grow."_

_The doctor stared at the two in confusion, while his hand was being shaken mechanically by her friend before saying "I don't get it…Dead trees don't grow…" The two friends looked at each other with unspoken fear that there might be no escape from this forced conversation. "Ah, no matter…" He started again, quickly recovering from his moment of confusion. "There is someone I want you two to meet tonight!"_

_That was the moment she had dreaded. Every fiber of her being was telling her to turn around and run screaming from this strange man whom she was certain was stalking them. She considered for a moment utilizing the same excuse she had the last dozen times he had conveniently happened upon them and abandoning her friend to suffer this gruesome fate, but she knew she couldn't keep running forever. Finally finding her voice, she asked, "Oh really? Who?" Her fake smile quivered on her lips and she suddenly wished she had abandoned her friend to suffer this alone. The man stepped closer to her setting off all of her internal alarms. Her nostrils flared out and she knew she was suddenly sweating profusely. _

"_It's a surprise." He whispered to the both of them. Stepping back again and stretching out his arms he announced, "Unfortunately, my baby girl is having her final shooting contest of the year tonight. I am not allowed to miss it." He finished dismally._

"_Oh, what's wrong Dr. Gallagher?" Her friend prompted, though it had made her inwardly jump with glee that he wouldn't be attending the meeting tonight. "Aren't you proud of her?"_

_Dr. Gallagher furrowed his eyes and shook his head and said, "She wants to be a secret agent for the government and shoot people someday…" He looked over at a group of other students passing them by in the hallway, "I always wanted her to be a top scientist and win a Nobel prize someday…take over the family research…" He sighed and stared stoically at the floor. "I should have never given her that toy gun when she was a tot. Still sleeps with it, she does…" At this the two friends couldn't help but smile. The doctor turned back to them and handed them both a datapad with the location and profiles of the people they would be meeting that night. "Anyhow, enough of that. Be on time and be ready to talk. These intellects are very interested in meeting the youth of today."_

"_Of course, doctor." She replied, taking the datapad and enthusiastically dragging her friend down the hallway. _

_---_

_It was hours later and they had only glanced over the contents of the datapad, when they found themselves entering one of the nicer restaurants in the area. They had managed to read far enough into the contents to know that their meals were already paid for tonight, courtesy of the intellects they were meeting. They walked towards the back room as the instructions indicated and saw from the door a group of four individuals, dressed comfortably and in a lively conversation. One in the group looked up and saw the two students at the door and motioned for them to sit down at the table. There were at least four more chairs arranged at the other end of the table and over the course of the night, those chairs filled with other students. One couple in particular made quite an impression on the two…_

_---_

"He kind of became…no…he was my mentor." Lestrade smiled, still following the trail already out of New London airspace. "All those years, through high school and college that I interned, he was always right over my shoulder helping me, teaching me all sorts of things and making certain I had the most fun while doing it. Dr. Hwang and Suzuka too was always floating around." Her grip loosened slightly upon the steering wheel. "They made the toughest times bearable and the easiest seem a lot more challenging than they really were." She looked over at Holmes, much calmer now that she was opening up to him. "I was set to become a full fledged researcher just months before the first attack. As you can imagine, my world was turned…upside down, inside out, and ripped to shreds."

Holmes nodded thoughtfully, staring out the window at one of the few patches of non-developed land below. Her story seemed unlikely to him but the names she kept mentioning were certainly noteworthy. Several he recognized from the reports he had listened to and read as top researchers, theorists and intellectual authority on the capabilities of the Technologies, but then, anyone could look up a name or two and spin a tale about them.

Of course, he wasn't intentionally attempting to disprove anything she said, but without personnel records and other secondary sources, it was most difficult to even imagine her story to be correct. Furthermore, there was no Technology near her hometown or her college. She was expecting trust and faith but all of the reports he had read had indicated that the channels for the Technologies were extremely difficult to enter. However, the question of why she would claim to have been a researcher in training had she not been one was even more puzzling. He chanced a question, just to verify some elements. "Which Technology did you end up working at?"

Her eyes became downcast and the young engineer shuffled quietly in the backseat. She took a deep breath and said "Eastern seaboard, along the coast of North Carolina. We ended up doing a lot of water manipulation on our end, sometimes, not even for our own sector, but for the ones a sector or two away. It was a research heavy Sector though, because of the unique conditions." She checked the readings on her instruments and said, "The trail is fading. We need to pick up speed." She rescanned the ion trail ahead of her and sped along the skyway. "I do kind of miss it sometimes." She said, "I mean, I love being a detective and all, but the kind of discovery you make in a lab or a simulation is a totally different feeling from the discovery of how a criminal committed a crime."

Holmes decided at last to ask a question that had been gnawing at him since she first started confessing. "Lestrade, I hope you don't mind me asking but who has disappeared?"

Lestrade looked away and began to list, "Dr. Howell, Sakagami, Hooker, J1 and J2, Dr. Laken…" Her voice cracked and she could no longer continue.

Instead a voice from behind finished listing for her, stiff yet sad, "…Terry, Jessy, Bones, Black, Ateyi, Allyson, Doodle, and Cox. At least, those are the ones we knew."

Lestrade having recomposed herself turned around and mouthed a silent thanks to the young inventor who went back to his work. Holmes mulled over the list for a moment. Though most of the names were rather unimportant to him, he had seen a few listed as missing persons from the New London area. It definitely added weight to her assumption, though it was still difficult to imagine how such a large building could be so well hidden from sight. Holmes carefully considered his question but before he could ask Lestrade said in a quiet voice. "I know it sounds outlandish, but that's just my theory." She looked over to Holmes, "I always wanted to tell you, but, it just isn't something I was allowed talk about…" she wiped away a stray tear that had somehow escaped from her right eye and finished, "and with researchers disappearing, it _really_ became something I shouldn't talk about."

Holmes nodded as he picked up on the undertone of what she was saying and though he felt a strange pang in chest that seemed to physically hurt him as he looked over at her he knew she had probably signed away her right to speak of it a long time ago when the War began. "I understand" he said to her gently and looked out the window. As she remained silent and he stared out the window, he suddenly thought of something that could possibly comfort her. "Lestrade, if it would ease your mind, I could look into those disappearances on your behalf."

He heard her breath catch in her throat, but Mr. Coultrane spoke first. "Most of them have been gone months. If you do, start with Cox, Gregory Cox. He's still pretty recent…and thanks…from both of us."

The sadness in the engineer's voice was not missed by Holmes as he made a mental note to look into this, if only for Lestrade's sake, who was now doing her best to ignore the silent tears streaming down her face. Deciding it best to drop the dismal topic for something, or anything, more uplifting than their current discussion, Holmes turned around in his seat with a smirk and faced the engineer. The engineer stared back wide-eyed and agape at the sudden move so much that Holmes could not help but laugh at the young man's face. Taken advantage of having put the engineer off guard Holmes inquired mischievously between laughs, "So, do tell me about _my _dear Lestrade and what her life was in the States."

His eyes twinkled mischievously as he heard her voice suddenly erupt into horror. "No! Josh, don't you dare!"

Glancing and Lestrade just long enough to ascertain that she wouldn't be able to drive and stop him at the same time, Josh grinned devilishly. "Well," he began, "Back then, she was beautiful." He sighed wistfully, though the words for some unknown reason seemed to invoke more annoyance from Holmes than curiosity.

As Lestrade recovered from what she felt would be a certain broadcasting of her history she glared back at the young engineer in the backseat and testily said, "Wait…was!?"

"Yeah…was." He replied doing his best to hold in his chuckles. Josh allowed her to steam a moment as she glared ahead before he whispered just loud enough for both her and Holmes to hear, "Now, you're breathtaking."

That one statement sent Lestrade's face into a furious blush that she couldn't control. It was something Holmes had never thought possible, that Lestrade the independent and hardworking woman he had come to rely on could be so dynamic in her personality that a romantic word could utterly disarm her in an instant. In a way he felt annoyed again but he could not quite place a reason to it. This engineer was certainly turning the tables on what had previously been a rather comfortable relationship between him and Lestrade. Things were changing around him and though a piece of him wanted that, he still wanted to take it at his own pace. Still, he had started this in asking the engineer in the first place. He turned back to face the engineer again and stated in a dull voice, "clearly…"

Picking up on the older man's annoyance, Josh snapped to attention again, much to Lestrade's distress, and said, "Oh…you meant Beth the intern…" He thought for a moment before he said, "She was a lot less bossy, but very inquisitive and always in trouble… We were home every week and worked the weekends but…"

---

_Two young researchers tiptoed down an empty hallway, glancing over their shoulders periodically to check that they had not been seen. Upon reaching one of the doors, voices drifted out into the hallway and the pair realized they had found their target. They each took a position on a different side of the door and leaned in closer so that they could hear even better. _

_A voice they both knew very well drifted out of the door first. "The ethical concerns of this particular experiment need further exploration and we still need to work out an area containment plan that will undoubtedly work." It was Dr. Laken, one of the lead researchers at the Technology, their supervisor and mentor. "At this time, there are still too many risks to move ahead with this."_

_Another voice sounded, crashing through the door in volume. It was Dr. Zeigler, a less noteworthy researcher who always seemed especially hotheaded, though they had been told it was attributable to being the runt of his family's gene pool. All five of his siblings were highly successful in their own fields and many had received special rewards for their work. "The conditions are right and we have the simulations. We need to move on this now!"_

_A much more feminine and refined voice sang gently through the door. The pair smiled at each other as they realized who was now talking. "Dr. Ziegler, I understand the conditions are just right as detailed in the proposal for the experiment. However, Jason's right. There are too many risks. How can we even be sure we can continue to control this once we have created it? We could be unleashing a tragedy upon thousands of people unwittingly." They both new at this point Dr. Emily Sukuza would be examining her fingernails as she finished her words darkly. "The simulations cannot be seen as evidence for your case and I believe your computations are wrong."_

_A collective gasp was heard through the door and immediately the group of researchers convening on the other side of the door erupted into a bout of conversations amongst themselves. Dr. Sukuza's words had stirred those present and it became apparent by the ever increasing volume that there were others who felt the same as she did. _

_After a few minutes, the researchers settled back down and Dr. Laken began to speak openly to the group once more. "My friends and fellow researchers, though we could potentially learn a great deal from this experiment we must first consider those around us. This cannot be performed in a sterile lab but out in our world, where people live, play, and work. Even if we set up a containment area with restricted access, we would require extra miles just for redundancy's sake. This is not feasible at this time in this political atmosphere." Words of agreement broke his words before he continued, "Instead, we should plan to look towards natural phenomenon and study it so that we can better understand our own simulations."_

_A few researchers disagreed but ultimately the voice of reason won out and the meeting petered onto less important business to discuss, like the various research requests other Technologies had sent them that week. As the two researchers in the hallway exchanged a nod and began to leave, the door opened behind them._

_A dazzling young Asian woman of about 29 walked out and quietly closed the door behind her. Turning around, she spotted the two younger researchers who had both attempted to hide within the thin doorways of the hallway and gave them both a stern look. Saying nothing, she walked to them both and grabbed them each by an ear lobe and dragged them behind her. Though they protested vehemently, she quietly refused to release them until they had completely cleared the forbidden hall. _

"_Elizabeth! Joshua!" She pierced the two interns with looks meant to kill as they rubbed their now tender earlobes. "I leave this meeting to use the bathroom and find you two hiding there! Explain!" Her piercing stare was accentuated by her darker eye shadow and the small woman stood with her hands on her hips as she glared at her two interns. "I'm waiting."_

_Beth was the first to summon her courage to speak to the formidable yet tiny Asian woman. "W-we were just curious?" she stuttered._

_Dr. Suzuka narrowed her eyes at the young brunette before shifting her gaze to the young man._

"_We were eavesdropping." Josh said, giving up all hope of getting out of this one. "We were just about to leave anyways…"_

"_I'm sure you were, since the best part had past." Dr. Suzuka spat at him. "Do either of you have any idea how much trouble you could have been in had security seen you two loitering outside that room!? The whole wing just got swept for bugs and that meeting was classified." The small lady huffed as she stood there, contemplating what to do with the two interns next. Hearing more researchers pouring out into the hallway she quickly said, "Both of you, back in my office now. Say nothing to anyone, do you understand me?" _

"_Yes'm." The two interns sputtered as they turned and speed-walked down yet another hallway. As soon as they were out of earshot, Josh said, "You know, for such a small and sweet woman, Dr. Suzuka really does have an iron grip with those fingernails." His partner didn't answer but continued to massage her own ear as they walked towards the office. _

_---_

_It was a half hour later when both Dr. Laken and Suzuka had regrouped themselves in their office and had to deal with their two sulking interns. Dr. Suzuka had already explained the situation to her colleague and they two had decided it would be best to talk it out with their students. _

_Beth was the first to speak up about their actions. "Dr. Laken, you always let us go to the other staff meetings. We just wanted to see why this one was so…exclusive." She took a deep breath as she formulated her next words. "And if you're worried about what we heard, we weren't exactly on time. We didn't hear anything explicit though I know I can guess what it was about."_

_Josh stayed quiet, letting Beth do most of the talking. "You never told us it was classified." Beth continued, "Had we known that, we would have at least thought twice about doing it." Josh nodded and Beth fell silent._

_Dr. Jason Laken looked away as he said, "Regardless, you would have only complicated matters. Had Ziegler seen either of you there in that hallway, there would be hell to pay for this. He's looking for anything to push his theories ahead, however poor his computations may be." He was a very large man, with curly blonde hair and light blue eyes whose face almost always glowed with a jolly light. His eyes seemed to twinkle at times and he was likely the most optimistic man either of them knew, though at this time he seemed saddened by the incident. His bushy eyebrows seem to twitch with a life of their own as he shook his head and grumbled over to Dr. Suzuka, who had already given them an earful the moment she had returned to the lab, before he threw his arms up in defeat and said, "I just can't stay mad at you two!" However, that merry twinkle quickly returned to his eyes, which worried the pair before him. "I won't always be around to get you two out of trouble." _

_Not knowing what else to say, Josh offered, "Hopefully by then we'll be too crafty to get caught anyhow."_

_Dr. Laken laughed heartily and looked up to them with tears in his eyes. "Be sure you do that." He shook his head and smiled and the merry twinkle returned to his eyes. "Well, you would've found out anyhow next week since we'll be the ones to reexamine some very important calculations in some of these simulations that have been going on around here. BUT," he emphasized cheerfully, giving them a playful yet serious stare, "since you have ruined the surprise, I'm going to assign you CHORES!" _

_Dr. Emily began to laugh aloud and clap her hands as she watched the onerous assignments being doled out to the two unlucky interns. It would be days before either one would finish their assignments and though they knew they were lucky to have gotten away with it so lightly, they had already begun to discuss in private ways to improve upon their plan for the next time… _

---

As the hovercraft neared the northern seashore, the pair had finished yet another story, describing both good and bad experiences and detailing their most devilish of moments. It seemed odd to Holmes that Lestrade would ever have been such a dynamic individual, but the more he heard, the more believable it became. She had a certain lawless attitude when policing as it was, and considering her two preceptors at the Technology, he realized they had been more of an enabler than she had ever had with Grayson. However, as much as he wanted to attribute her change in personality to her working environment, he knew deep down that she probably had a deep and unalterable respect for her two mentors that seemed to never occur again afterwards. Yet, though the dozen stories they had recounted to him had filled in some sparse portions of Lestrade's history, he still felt as though there were gaps or holes in what they had told him, perhaps too private to share aloud but it was those instances he was must interested in.

"Of course," Josh laughed loudly, "we were pretty good for a while after that, probably six months until Beth here blew up the readings room, haha!"

Lestrade hung her head as she attempted to respond, "It was just a cup of hot chocolate!"

"And _sizzle_ it went." The engineer teased mercilessly. Lestrade found herself at a loss of words and just laughed along with him.

Holmes had been logging the stories in the back of his mind, though suddenly another question popped into his mind. There was only one thing they might avoid talking about at this point and that was their own personal relationship. None of their stories involved anything outside of the Technology, which gave Holmes some dangerous assumptions that immediately wanted to wrestle with his thoughts.

Suddenly, Lestrade stopped laughing, causing an abrupt end to the reminiscing. As soon as her mood changed, the engineer moved a bit closer to see what was going on as did Holmes. The ion trail that had been displayed on the screen had a sudden unexpected end. As Holmes realized just where the trail ended he prepared himself for a sudden drop he was sure would follow.

The engineer however plastered his own face to the windows in the back looking out over the ocean waves. "No debris," he noted. "It didn't crash."

The Inspector however had already been thinking what Holmes had divined, "Maybe, that piece of junk had underwater capabilities…" She looked back at the position the ion trail had ended. "Only one way to find out." Slowly she plummeted towards the waters. Her passengers braced for a jarring impact as the waves grew bigger and bigger before them.

---

_A/N: Wow…a long time in coming but it did finally come. I wanted to put more into this, however, I feel any more might be an overload and this is just right. Let me know what you all thought of it! I can finally put my energies into the next chapter and also into the next chapter of the Cold Case story again (YAY! I feel like the cookie monster with a whole jar of cookies. I'm so happy I actually finished this chapter!). This was by far the hardest thing I have ever written so by all means tear it apart guys! I accept all words you want to say about it good, bad, and indecisive. _

_Also, to those who have sent me PMs and given me reviews and wanted to let me know you were eagerly anticipating the next chapter, thank you so much for verbally expressing your interest in this story and my other stories. I am really working hard to get on the ball with all of them, but this was a special particular mountain of a chapter I just had to conquer before I could really do anything else (and for those who remember the original chapter 6 (which wasn't really chapter six but two separate chapters), you know what I'm talking about!). I pray it will be smooth sailing from here on out. Those of you who have asked for the story to continue, I especially thank you for reminding me that I am not the only person who really wants to see this completed. Thank you guys!  
_

_Oh my gosh… I just checked to see when I last updated (to have an idea of how long it really took me to fix this to a point that I liked) and it was mid August of '06!!!! This took me three years! I know I've been busy but still…wow…the next chapter I promise now will come MUCH sooner! Perhaps not tomorrow, but soon. Anyways, the revising phase is over and I am so very thankful for that._


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